


i am a little stitious

by Black, smooshkin



Series: KingSlayer [3]
Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Office Sex, Praise, Sexual Content, The Good Adam Noises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black/pseuds/Black, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smooshkin/pseuds/smooshkin
Summary: David calls Adam into work at 5 am for drinking, flirting, and an eventual banging.





	i am a little stitious

**Author's Note:**

> There's roleplay number four. More banging. More emotions. More bonding.  
> We hate them.
> 
> As a warning, all of our RP titles are like shitty memes that are purposely funny because we need to laugh to keep from crying LOL  
> as for this one: [Right here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5r-TG8cCeE)
> 
> Smoosh starts off with Smooth Sarif and I follow in with Adam.

= * =

A lot has happened in the last few months.   
  
In the wake of the raging inferno and nightmare that had been Washington and Milwaukee Junction- and now, most recently, Paris- Adam had remained.   
  
Politely. Obediently.    
  
David had swiveled his seat around at his desk. Picus was delivering their account of the Palais Garnier and he narrows his eyes at the screen.   
  
He rolls a baseball carefully in his hands, over his stomach as he slumped in his seat. Finds himself glowering from under elegantly curved brows.    
  
He'd been able to. Come to terms with what he'd seen. If anything- it reinstilled his faith in his work.    
  
It was just...a tragedy that people had to die to demonstrate it. Something beautiful- unearthly and divine had been turned into a bloody abattoir. They showed footage of Parisian cordons and construction workers cleaning up the damage.   
  
At least they described it properly. A terrorist act. A hate crime. Not a single mention of the men who tried to take Adam away, though. Not a one.   
  
But David saw them. Highly trained, disciplined and well-equipped. Nothing like the splinter cell of anti-aug extremists in the seats.   
  
He swallowed, and considered Adam. Yeah- that kid was big news. Big, bad news.    
  
But Sarif couldn't let him go. He belonged here.

He stood up from his seat and circled his desk to look out at his city. The television was a bleary hum in his ear now. What interested him was the horizon.   
  
He wondered if Paris was having lunch right now. How many tables might be missing an occupant. He narrows his eyes and rolls the ball in his palm.   
  
He'd stop this. People would stop if the ...minimal horrors of augmentation could be eliminated entirely. And- Damnit!  They almost had been! He feels his expression tighten.    
  
Adam could help. He knew it.    
  
Speaking of- he had asked Adam to meet him first-thing today. Here. Told Athene to let him in.    
  
He raises a brow and peers over his shoulder- imagining how Adam might be dressed today. Would he have his glasses down? Would he be in that nice GI sweater he was so fond of?   
  
David finds himself grinning at the tragedy of he and poor Adam's nice suits getting bloody and torn in the firefight. He looked so nice. He'd have to be sure to get him more. Ranier might help.    
  
David rolls his eyes at himself and tosses the baseball into his other hand. And then back.

 

= * =

 

A lot has happened in the past few months.  
  
Adam doesn’t even know where to begin.  
  
...But he knows where he’s going. He tugs uncomfortably at the sweater worn as he walks, jacket nuzzled heavily against him. Early morning. muddled. muffled. David had requested his presence, and Adam wasn’t even really sure why. Wondered if there was another job he just needed done. Wondered if he wanted to talk to him. Wondered if he was just lonely. He was used to waking up early, but even this was _early_ for him. He wondered what David was even doing in the office at this time.   
  
His cigarette burns steady between his fingers; he brings it up to his lips and inhales. holds. holds. closes his eyes and trusts his feet to carry him home. he exhales, and opens them again; view obstructed by smoke momentarily before he steps through.  
  
Sarif Industries. His eyes soften as he stares to the beacons. Honey warm against the crisp sky; the black has yet to give. the snow heaps and glitters. crunches under his feet as he moves  
  
onward. always onward. he can’t linger in the past. he can’t linger in Paris. he can’t fixate on all the people lost, all the bodies they recovered. all the bodies they didn’t. He thinks of Sal, thinks of all the men who screamed to take him. take him. who had wanted him? Paget hadn’t resurfaced after the situation, but neither had Salvatore, for that matter. Adam had met him, been warned of poisoned coffee, saved from a raging inferno, and then lost sight of his - 

no, he couldn’t say friend. it had all been too formal, too premeditation. Salvatore knew something, and it bothered Adam that he had absolutely no idea _what_ he knew. But it involved him, and the lack of information itched him crazy. He wanted to know - the lack of knowledge stripped him of all his safety. He felt vulnerable and open at his apartment; who’s to say they couldn’t creep past his defenses in the middle of the night and try to snatch him up? hands on him. pulling. pulling. fingers curled in the tips of augs and heaving -  
  
Adam pauses in front of Sarif Industries and looks down at his twice smoked cigarette, burned down to the filter and he frowns at his wandering mind. he snuffs it’s corpse against the gravel at the top of the trashcan before ghosting through the doors, light on his feet. creeping past scientists, security, early birds. Pritchard’s office. his presence thin and narrow, though gathered thick with purpose.   
  
he rides the elevator up.   
lingers. lingers. hands in his pockets.  
too clear, too clear. the cold curling his cheeks.  
the morning had yet to warm her bones, the skeleton yet to rise.   
  
“Athene,” he greets curtly, nodding in her direction as he saunters past without any hesitation. He knew by now that she wouldn’t stop him, would ask to make _sure_ that he had some appointment. David always made time for Adam. She knew it. He knew it too.  
  
He pauses in the doorway and looks back down the hall, the building before him as a whole. the lights are dimmed still, the gold of them devouring each and every wall in elegance. a haunting stillness, not yet stirred by the wandering body.   
  
Adam enters, tilting his head curious at Sarif’s position near the window. “Boss?” He questions, eyes flickering to the TV for only a moment before looking back to him as he slowly approaches, “You wanted to see me?”

 

= * =

 

Athene had a small mug near her keyboard at this time of day and she nods at Adam as he appeared on the executive floor.   
  
Oh, yes, Jensen. You  _ do _ have an appointment. She'd narrow her eyes at his back when he turned but said nothing. David had chosen the man to be a near constant companion these days. Who was she to question it?   
  
David had turned quickly upon hearing his familiar approach.    
  
"Adam! There you are." He quickly sets his trinket on a stack of books. "Ah-..." His hands go to his hips momentarily as he looks around.   
  
Finding what he was looking for- the TV remote- he lunges for it and changes the channel. Sports were a better choice.   
  
"Yeah- uhm." He sets it back down and turns back to Adam.   
  
"Don't be mad at me for callin' you in a little early today, alright I--" He ran a hand through his hair and steps closer.   
  
"After everything that's happened I just-- I wanted to spend some time with ya' an- Well, stuff gets busy after rush hour! I thought-- thought maybe you might indulge in a drink or two."   
  
David certainly didn't look  _ nervous _ , but he was eying Adam expectantly.    
  
"With me."   
  
Adam was always. Working. For him. The least he could do is show him he wanted to invest in their.... Friendship.   
  
He tilts his head a fraction toward his desk- Tennessee Whiskey- keeping his eyes on Adam. He makes a vague gesture with his open hands before extending one toward him.

A gamble. David was good at those.   
  
"Come here." He says a little more quietly, carefully trying to curl his fingers around a side of Adam's arm. The feel of the leather coat reminds him.    
  
"And shed the coat, yeah? Relax." He says, coaxing him to follow around the corner of his desk.   
  
And then Adam might notice a new addition to the office. Another leather armchair near one end of the desk. David really thought of everything, didn't he.   
  
"I actually prefer the evening and early morning, you know." He says quietly, pouring Adam a drink.   
  
"Luckily I can still get  _ something _ done at this hour if I wanted, but- you know the nature of business. Daylight's just everyone's M.O. so you gotta follow the rules. But Detroit's altogether more charming- beautiful even- without the sun there to burn up the view, yeah?"   
  
He paused his pouring to glance at Adam.    
  
"A lotta things are." He keeps the look, takes the glass and slowly proffers it.

 

= * =

 

He had a creeping suspicion that Athene didn’t prefer him.   
Her eyes always dug deep into his back as he strode by; Adam figured he didn’t need to be told that he had an appointment when he _knew_ he did. He didn’t need to check if Sarif’s schedule was clear, didn’t need to check if the boss was too busy for him or not. He just knew Sarif was expecting him - that never changed.   
  
Adam spared her one more glance before he walked in, door clicking behind him - signaling a lock. It was just them, just the two of them - and yet it was comfortable. he crept forward - sleek and leonine; curious eyes slatted in the low light. his augs whirr, flexing fluid under his clothes as he moved.   
  
he hums as David says his name and watches intently as he sets the baseball down, removing the object from between them - startled with the motion. Adam was never surprised anymore to find him fidgeting with it; he figured it was some type of coping mechanism for David. Upon their last confrontation, he had clung to it and rolled it near furiously. as if he could ball everything he was feeling within it’s cork center and feel it buzz in his palms.   
  
it’s traded for a momentary grip on his remote, the swipe of a TV channel. something less dreary, something a little more welcoming - sports. of course. His lips perk in the hint of a smile and he relaxes, shoulders aching forward as shifts weight into his heels.   
  
“You called me in at five am for a drink,” his voice is a near steady tone - the only thing that gives him away is the curl of playful disbelief that colors it  
  
a pause, “with you.”

Adam takes a moment of pause and then shakes his head, some rumble purred in the back of his throat. he brings a hand up to rub at his winter eyes, polycarbonate massaging the area around the lens ports. he pulls them away and then looks at Sarif’s - fuck, what could he even call it? he wants to say the expression is endearing, borderline _adorable_. David looks so excited to just have him here - there’s a warm flutter of want in Adam’s chest as he approaches.   
  
David’s elegant fingers curl around his arm and Adam obediently slips the jacket off, gently draping it over the back of David’s plush desk chair and smoothing the fabric with careful hands, straightening the sleeves so they hang neat. He tugs at the dark cableknit to straighten it back out again, rolling his wrists to settle the sleeves on them. The office is comfortable, warm - welcoming; his eyes catch the clutter of books, looming statue, and scattered papers.  
  
Adam wonders if his mother would be equally horrified to walk in here as she would be his own apartment. He fights the urge to roll his eyes with laugh.  
  
Especially when he notices that armchair -  
David really thought of everything, didn’t he?  
  
“I can agree,” he muses - even working on the police force he always sought morning shifts, more so than late night. Detroit was always so still before she woke, on the cusp of something bubbling. sidewalks rumbling with the eventual stumble of feet - walking to school, work, banks - be it to rob or deposit; Adam always found her beautiful when she sighed. Even the sunset could not shake him of his fondness -  
  
he thinks it may be the same feeling, today.

Adam nods to his statement and then his eyes flicker up with an abrupt snap at the compliment, something Adam may dare even say borders on flirting - he reaches forward without breaking eye contact and takes what’s offered to him, an amused rumble as his alloy claws ping gentle against the glass. brushing Sarifs. hm.   
  
“Is that so…” his teeth catch the inside of one of his lips as he shakes his head and takes a drink of the whiskey - almost wishing he had a nice, heaping cup of coffee to pour this into. He lingers in the honey thick silence for a moment before he shakes his head, “I’m not angry.” He answers the earlier statement after thinking on it all for a few moments, straightening up to look out the window at his city.   
  
a genuine smile, “far from it.”

 

= * =

 

Sarif relinquishes his grasp on the glass once he's sure Adam has it. He curls his fingers in order to better brush his knuckles on the man's own.    
  
His eyes flicker to the exchange and he swallows.    
  
He turns around to fetch himself a glass. Adam had, indeed, shed the jacket and so was prepared to stay a while. David wondered why he felt like he was pussy-footing around the other.    
  
He watches intently as the whiskey swirls, auto-piloting it's descent into the glass. He was quiet. He'd be lying to himself if he hadn't thought of their encounter in the kid's apartment several times since.   
  
He'd be lying as well if he didn't consider that he might be playing with fire by welcoming- no- inviting, Adam's friendship. His brow hardens in the moment before vanishing by the time he turns to face him again.   
  
'far from it.' Adam had said. One of the most overtly 'friendly' things David's ever heard him say!   
  
Another gamble was in order. First, he reaches his glass out to gently tap it against Adam's.    
  
"Well, cheers, Adam." He grins. Then takes a step back and settles neatly into his chair. He sighs with the motion.   
  
"You know I like you." He prefaces.   
  
Then he regards him appraisingly for but a second before he makes a beckoning motion with his free hand.   
  
His eyes flicker to his lap and back up. There was the familiar look. The gilded, barbed-wire look Sarif always got when he was preparing for a counter-argument.   
  
"Come here." He says quietly.

Yes. Adam could say no. Sarif was prepared to get a little angry but no more than that. But really, would he say no?    
  
Watching the news earlier, he remembered Paris. Blood-boiled fever dream- pressure threatening to split his spine and- inferno behind his eyes from the pain and then there were Adam's hands.   
  
And then he'd. Found him at home and, after laying together on the couch, they got woken up by the sunrise burning the horizon for another damn day.   
  
How could he--? Not? He'd huffed in frustration to himself earlier.    
  
Maybe you're the one not taking the hint, David. Yeah. Well, here we go.

 

= * =

 

Adam’s eyes flicker down to watch their fingers touch as the glass is handed off to him.  
Hm.  
He had a feeling he knew what this was about.   
  
The glass ticks against his teeth as he pulls in another sip. amber. primal. a rush of warmth to flutter through his system and he wonders what company policy is concerning consuming liquor at work. The thought makes him raise a brow and take another sip - wonders how many people have gotten written up for the exact thing he’s taking pleasure in right now.   
  
He doesn’t bring it up.  
  
The air is strung loose, but tense. he can feel it. Adam’s gaze wanders to the window and hooks one of his thumbs in front of pocket of his pants, eyes lidded and lax - surveying the city laid before him. he thinks of what she used to be. automobiles, sorting factories, music. how she fell to the economy. how when everything had left, many of her people still remained. her streets void of work, void of music, void of laughter and light. Everything was dingey and bleak, bleary. Ghosts haunted her; drifted from corner store to corner store, slept under bridges. the summers had been muggy and miserable - the winter were grey and hopeless.   
  
and then Sarif Industries kickstarted her heart.  
  
He remembered seeing the hope that had burned in the eyes of her ghosts, resuming corporeal form. He remembered the spiking decrease in crime for a short period of time. He remembered smiling fondly upon watching her writhe, again. Watching her arch and ache.   
  
“Mm?” their glasses click together and he gives the ghost of a smile looking upon her first respondent, rolling his neck as he takes another small sip - “cheers.” he tilts his head at the _You know I like you_ and it solidifies his earlier feeling - even more curious now in just which direction Sarif was heading with this ‘meeting’.

When Megan had suggested work here - he had held a fond distrust for the man. It’s his work for the city that made him walk through those doors, hand in hand with her. Someone who cared that much - well, Adam could _maybe_ give them the chance.   
  
Though - Sarif’s next motion snaps him from his hazed, nostalgic stupor. His eyes shine and his brows raise, oh. He hesitates for a moment and there’s a strange pause, there’s a strange feeling that rattles over him and Adam doesn’t think he can gift that sensation to the liquor, this time.   
  
His legs are carrying him over before he realizes it, but he’s, “really?” there’s nothing barbed about it, no disgust or malice laced between the lines. It’s simply disbelief; his lips turn into an incredulous half-smile. He follows through, a shred of nervousness and _we’re really doing this Adam_ spiking through him as he takes seat in David Sarif’s lap. He’s warm, free fingers finding the fabric of his pants and sliding down the outside of his thigh as he settles.   
  
After Paris - something shifted.  
Hell, that night in the apartment - something shifted.   
  
He remains just a little tense, a little wary. His eyes flicker to the office door and for a moment he lives a second in Sarif’s position. flickering to catch the chess board. the papers. the computer. the file folders scattered on the floor.   
  
A low sound, “You like me?”

 

= * =

 

Sarif had settled his arm likewise on the arm of the chair. He gives Adam room and- by god, he actually does it.    
  
Adam sits on him and so David makes a pleased hum at the back of his throat. Whiskey-less hand curves around his waist and pulls him a fraction closer.    
  
"Really." He echoes, furrowing a brow, mimicking Adam's disbelief.   
  
He leans his head back to regard him. Fondly. He grins. Says nothing but brings the whiskey up to drink.   
  
Finally; "I do. A lot- Adam. I..." He turns his head away, fixating on some arbitrary decoration on his wall.    
  
His hand splays over Adam's waist and presses. He exhales through his nose- fingers dipping briefly between the demarcation of his sweater and trousers. Retracts it- returns it. He'd turn to give him another look as he twists his wrist under the bottom of the sweater to brush his knuckles on his belly.   
  
He makes a pleased sound and proceeds to bump his forehead to Adam's shoulder to nudge him.    
  
"Do you wanna let me..?" He asks, feeling the man's body tense just a little more than might be comfortable. He'd watch him glance at the office door and Sarif squeezes him with his arm.    
  
"You locked it, right?" He gives him something of a sneer.   
  
His legs shift a fraction under Adam as he uses them to turn the seat just enough to reach his arm out and set his whiskey on the desk. He brings his augmented hand back and settles it on the one Adam had in front of him, hooking around it and bringing it up between them.   
  
His thumb presses between the grooves of Adam's synthetic knuckles, the tips of his fingers feeling his palm and he- brings his fingers to his lips but; He glances at Adam first.

 

= * =

 

Adam startles, a little tense, though relaxes into the touch.  
The arm wrapped around his waist - he draws a small, humming noise from him. he manages to reach out and gently set the half-full glass of whiskey down, a heavy sigh taking home in his chest. he vacates it a few moments later. after feeling the pleasant burn of both it and the alcohol lingering.   
  
“Could have never guessed,” He says, light. Out of character, almost. Adam is comfortable for the most part; a rarity. Since the situation with SWAT, his break up with Megan - he had constructed walls so thick that he didn’t know if anyone could get through again. He almost preferred that.   
  
Though - Sarif.   
  
He had injured the walls.  
Dismantled them with everything alloy.   
Everything augmented.  
Adam was left alone to rebuild - and had almost succeeded until the older man had come around again. Had found him bleeding, punctuated with bite wounds and reddened ports. knuckle beaten and bruised. struggling with some creature to his back - it had gotten in. gotten in.  
  
He had gotten in.   
  
Adam tenses at the fingers on his belly but gives a shaky huff, leaning back against the warm body and lets his eyes flicker up to the sculptures hanging above them. round and black. suspended - still. The weight is comforting, he thinks. He’s brought back to Paris, the fingers on his collar. Brought back to the bedroom, those fingers in him -  
  
“Yes,” he says after a moment, a pleased rumble at the bump of Sarif’s forehead to his shoulder; he finally eases a little more tension from his humming joints, “and _yes_.”   
  
Adam had a feeling he knew what this was about.

It’s instinct to lace their fingers when presented with the opportunity - and Sarif gifts that to him as well. his eyes catch David’s elegant augs as he glances down to the touch, curling his fingers to run back along the joints. his joints. his dips and grooves. Adam won’t realize until later that this is the first time he’s chosen to freely explore augs that aren’t his own - an idea that will rest heavy in his chest.  
  
For now, he sighs audibly, though quietly.   
Content.

 

= * =

 

Likewise, Sarif never trifled with others. In pursuit of a dream, sometimes people could be a distraction.   
  
"Good boy."   
  
He kisses Adam's fingers.   
  
But when someone turned out to be a culmination- a representation of everything you fight for- have fought for--   
  
Adam was. Adam wasn't a distraction; more a fixation. He'd given unto life his desires and ambition and-- he was rewarded. Life had placed into his hands (his lap) a means to deliver humanity into a world of beauty and innovation. God, Adam. You don't know how special you are.   
  
David toys with Adam's hand in his and his lips curl fondly. They're both quiet aside from the subtle whir of their arms. A sound Sarif had since found intoxicating.   
  
A vibration- hum of his existence. He looks back up at Adam as he drags his hand up his body now, bringing the sweater up with it.   
  
His eyes were distant. Not disconnected, but distant.   
  
Was this a reward? David had been- devastated but not deterred- the moment he realized he wasn't going to Washington. And yet, he'd looked at his poor Adam. A key.    
  
All was not lost. Was this some sort of sign that, yes, David. You're meant to do this. You can still do this.   
  
He refocuses on Adam- untangling their hands in favour of reaching up to gingerly curl them around the back of his neck instead. He tugs him down; Tries to connect their mouths.   
  
Whether Adam returns it or not, he'd squeeze his nape with fingers and palm while delivering the kiss.

His other hand pulls up the sweater. Brings it up to meet his other as it slid around Adam's neck to curl around the sweater- now bunched under his collar. He bow-ties it in his grip and pulls, trying to slide that over his head.   
  
And hums. "Oh, Adam.." He rumbled nearly forlorn. Thoughtfully.   
  
Once the sweater was out of the way (He'd toss it neatly over the arm of the extra seat), he'd tug Adam close and wrap his arms around him, hands splaying over his front.   
  
His palm passes over the apertures on his chest and he- Well, David loves them. His hand slides further until his thumb hooks up and around his neck- the synthetic artery- other fingers following suit around the other side. He doesn't squeeze- not very hard.   
  
His other arm wraps neat around Adam's waist and- that he does squeeze a little- pulling him close to him as he shifts in his seat.

 

= * =

 

Adam shivers at the words.  
He doesn’t mean to so visibly - but.  
  
“Mmn,” fever-dream delirium - black and gold, sweet and sticking thick to his throat, Adam found himself under the cusp of touch so purposeful that it made his skin crawl. Even Megan never touched him like this - her hands always felt so cold. so meaningless. Adam had enjoyed it the first few times - though found it lacking any sort of luster onward.  
  
His fingers fidget in David’s gentle touch - a little nervous. nervous? there’s some sort of importance in his fingers lining David’s own. searching. pushing. pulling. a little jittery, far more fluid. He thinks if he attempts to speak then it’ll disrupt the comfort that’s built between them; so he hums. hums soft and low, a signal to Sarif that yes, he likes this. please continue.   
  
When had he gotten attached?  
attached?  
Wait.  
Was that the word?  
  
The moment of startle is caught by David’s hand, warm up his skin and bringing the sweater up along with him. His eyes focus on the black of his desk as the fabric bunches under his chin - earning a hard swallow. There’s a brief pause and Adam turns his head to look at their disconnecting hands - the hair on the back of his neck standing as fingers find themselves there and there’s a   
  
whirl of heat and there’s a tug and there’s lips nearing his. Oh. Adam only has to linger on the thought for a moment before he’s closing the distance between them - connection. a pressure that spiders up his spine, nestles in the alloy and threatens to bloom. burst. Mmn.

They only part when David is working the sweater off of him and his lidded eyes follow to watch him give is the same attention he had given his coat earlier, and he fights back the urge to smile. David says his name. He doesn’t fight it - the ghost of a thing lighting his face.   
  
He inhales and there’s a rush of - that night back at the apartment. David buried in him and he’s hot and demanding and hard and his bedsheets didn’t quite hold the same comfort as David did. earthy. human. clean - clarity. Fingers searching, searching. parting. Adam feels his belly simmer low - a heat that refracts down to his thighs.   
  
“ _David_ ,” the mutter is small and meaningful.  
  
There’s fingers playing at his chest and he let himself be pulled back, finds himself craving the closeness. the touch. he tilts his head to bump it against Sarif’s closing his eyes - cheeks flushing light from being touched so fondly. He gives a sharp noise at the low throb past his hips - pleasantly surprised, more than horrified.

 

= * =

 

Sarif chuckles, but it was throatier and quieter than that.    
  
He shifts, lifting his hips just slightly under Adam as he adjusts their seating together. Adam bumps into the side of his head and he silently grins, sliding his hand higher around his neck- fingers neatly settling on either side of his jaw and he- presses up insistantly.   
  
"Gorgeous." He mutters once he manages to open his eyes again- having momentarily been unable to resist as Adam had moved against him.   
  
"You hear me?" He croons. He urges Adam's attention to him with the grip on his jaw; Lifting a knee between his legs as he parts them around his own.   
  
"Relax." He reminds him. He holds him like a showpiece on his lap and, still fondly holding his jaw, slid his other- warmer- hand past Adam's belt-line. Gently splaying his fingers, he brushes the thin skin underneath.   
  
And drags his fingers back up to his waist.   
  
"What a good boy you are." He grins, pressing his head against the man's black shoulder, hand returning to his throat while the one below curled around his belt and proceeded to undo it.    
  
Getting it loose enough- he slid his hand back down- past the hem of his trousers- over his underwear until he's curling his fingers gently over him. Another squeeze and he's pulling his hand back with a mischievous grin.   
  
At some point, David had lifted one of his feet up to rest against the edge of his desk, heel catching on the carved trim as he urged Adam's own legs apart while he just. Touched him.

"Yeah." He breathed quietly. "Adam. You're a real masterstroke." He furrows his brows and tightly shuts his eyes, feeling Adam's arm with his cheek. Feeling his neck and body with his hands.    
  
A masterstroke. Masterpiece. In the space of a split second, Sarif considered that Adam may not think so. May not enjoy being likened to art. Maybe it was narcissistic? But- come on- anyone would give their right arm to be considered beautiful enough to be art. A treasure. They would!   
  
And if not, they just didn't have a place in this world.    
  
"Tell me you like what I'm doing."  He orders him quietly.   
  
His hand passes under Adam's layers of clothing again and he brushes his knuckles teasingly against his cock. Tell me you love this. What I'm doing- what I do. What we're doing. What I will do.    
  
To you. To humanity, really but let's take this one step at a time.

 

= * =

 

Their heads touch and there’s fingers against his jaw.  
throat.  
he wonders if they’ll claw.   
he wonders if he’ll have to worry.   
  
Mmn.   
  
They tilt his head back and his neck tinged pink at the compliment of _gorgeous_ and his eyes are low and dark and lidded and gold and - he releases a soft sigh through his nose. relaxing. relaxing. Sarif isn’t looking to tear your throat out Adam, calm down. This is safe. he’s safe. safe. Sarif’s fingers are warm and unyielding - but soft. They keep his head angled, but he knows they won’t seek blood. blood. muscle and meat. a soft, nervous noise. he can’t help it. eyes pin pricked with pleasure and peace.   
  
He nods. yes. yes he hears him and lets his legs easily part, feeling the augs stretch and whirr as he does. it pulls at the skin around the seams and it’s a pleasant feeling. the warmth radiates; flickers hotter through his thighs and the hand is bobbing up, down. up. down. easing. easing. the rolling of the ocean and Adam can feel the salt in his veins, at the tips of his fingers.   
  
curling currently against whatever he can find quickest in the moment - Sarif’s legs. he rolls the fabric and focuses on how it feels. how it gives. how fine it is. how thick.   
  
he relaxes, upon command. obediently. closing his eyes and robbing himself of that sense. it eases through him; the hand drops to cup his throat and he swallows against Sarif’s palm, bobbing thick at the feel of it. “Am I…?” A daring question, he almost doesn’t say it. It fights him for a moment, clatters into a hoarse whisper right behind his pretty teeth.

Adam pulls in a noise at the fingers that curl over him through his underwear and squeeze. that pressure rings in his ears and he almost wishes he was put together enough to take another drink of whiskey. this warmth is biting enough, though.   
  
the disappointment is a trickling cool through the heat in his hips - that hand pulls back and he shifts as his leg is elevated. parted more. Anyone could walk through that door right now and Adam doesn’t think he’d budge at all; he struggled to accept this, he wasn’t able to give it up.   
  
masterstroke. he opens his eyes and, “mm?” the word is muzzy in his mind though an inkling of concern ripples from it. he furrows his brows but is drawn back to the dream state as Sarif pushes his hand back down again and demands something of him. demands his voice. something Adam wasn’t ever keen on giving up so easily.   
  
“I…” he chuffled out a noise at the warmth against his cock, almost hoping if he answered then he wouldn’t be teased, they wouldn’t be pulled back. he shifts himself again and parts his legs a bit more, feeling his chest flush hot, “ _really like this_.”  
  
Oh Adam, you have a lot to learn.

 

= * =

 

Sarif's brows had raised at the question. Briefly. He doesn't waste time giving him a reassuring, lilted 'mmhmmm.'    
  
Watch it, Adam. I'll show you.   
  
And Adam's skin is hot under his touch. He was glad. He presses him close, fingers splayed over his neck- hips and presses as- he can't help but part his own lips over that onyx shoulder- testing the feel of one of Adam's synthetic muscles against his canines.   
  
Like the exploratory bite of a shark deciding whether or not the meat was bloody and worthy of it's teeth; He rumbles approvingly.   
  
Adam obeys and he returns with a fond, drawn,    
"Good Boy, Adam."   
  
And splays his hand fully over Adam's cock, sliding down and taking it in a satiny grip. He's careful- reminded that he's yet to slick his hand. Well- He supposes that was next, now that Adam was melting under his hands.   
  
He grins.   
  
"Mmhm.. There's my good boy. Remember what I told you?"  He asks him to keep his head muzzy- misty; While his knee bends and he turns himself to the desk, reaching for a drawer on one side and pulling it open.    
  
Potentially distracting. He keeps Adam's attention on the touch. Let me handle this.    
  
Like you handled Paris, David.   
  
Sarif swallows. An invasive thought.    
  
You promised him nothing would happen again and you failed, David.   
  
Something he'd forgotten.

Adam would feel a hand on his previously "injured" elbow, the fingers curling around it- thumb pressing curiously against the slat from which he could- at any time- eject the nanoblade.   
  
The touch would linger- squeeze, before it would return to his chest and hook against his clavicle.    
  
And David's now-wet synthetic hand would slide down his hips. A little chillier than the air.    
  
His hand presses hard against his body, curling down and around- until it was between his legs and he's pressing two fingers into Adam. He lifts his own hips to pin Adam under his touch.   
  
"There we go." He breathes. He brings his natural hand to the side of Adam's head and presses that too. Presses it against his own as he sits up further to meet it.   
  
"I want you to be as noisy as you can for me, Adam." He says into his ear, curling his fingers in before pulling them out- back in.    
"I love it when I can hear you." he nearly whispers.

 

= * =

 

Adam sighs softly at the reassurance.    
He swallows thickly at at the explorative mouth now feeling out his shoulder. fangs brushing, possessive and tasting. tasting. the sensation prickles down his arm and lodges in his elbow, something hot, something wild.   
  
it draws out another noise, brows pushing together in near concern until the approving rumble shakes him too. Sarif tastes his own art, his own creation. Self love, self love. company property - the angel he carved from circuits and serial numbers.    
  
‘ _ Good Boy, Adam. _ ’   
  
Why did he like that so much?   
  
He pulls in a shaky noise at that and opens his eyes just barely, the golden low lighting of the room just managing to creep in. all comforting, all blinding.    
  
his hips twitch and he startles at the warm hand on his cock - Adam shifts just slightly into the touch and curls his fingers against his legs. pressing. pressing. if he was any sort of sexual-sober, he’s embarrassed at the way he’s arching into the touch. embarrassed at the way he’s seeking it, seeking the approval and the    
  
‘ _ There’s my good boy. _ ’   
  
Yeah. That.    
  
“Mmyeah,” he manages out, feeling the movement and hearing the sound and his eyes part more. blurry. pulling the room into focus but Sarif strokes Adam back into submission. His situational awareness extends only to the heat in his stomach, to his thighs, a racket up his spine.    
  
He does though - feel a hand creep to touch his freshly repaired elbow. Adam briefly wonders what could possibly be flittering across David’s conscious think right now, what possible memory or idea this could be related to.

Adam is snapped back to the moment - clarity - as the cooled, slick fingers move down and over his hips. He narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side to look to him for a moment before twitching with a surprised noise, David’s fingers slipping into him. With hardly any resistance. Mmn. There’s some sort of greater appreciation for the fingers in him being augged, Adam shifts back into their welcomed intrusion. stretching. searching.    
  
“Ahh-” It’s soft, but a response to the demand for noise. David presses their heads together and his cock twitches in a hard throb at the rolling of fingers inside of him, “Mmmnhm.” That voice is haunting, yet honey in his ear. He knows, he knows David likes to hear him, It wasn’t hard to tell.    
  
He squeezes around the fingers and closes his eyes against, burying part of his face against David’s. a comfort. seeking security. that this is okay, he’s okay.

 

= * =

 

"Good." He croons at length.   
  
David runs his fingers through Adam's hair and keeps their heads close. He hums approvingly.    
  
Adam would arch against him and he'd reward him with more reasons to do it again. He'd make a noise and press into his hand and Sarif rewards him with a fond grip around his neck to hold him back against him.   
  
"That's what I wanna see." He praises, curling his fingers around in his hair and turning his head to press a kiss under his cheekbone.   
  
Meanwhile David's hand continues to torment him, adding another finger to the next slide-in.   
  
He'd rumble his approval into the side of Adam's head, hand occasionally dragging down over his neck and to his chest. He'd brush a thumb over a nipple- even give it a testing squeeze as he would feel the polymer of Adam's shoulder with his teeth again.   
  
He'd keep this up long enough until he felt Adam's body give enough for his fourth finger- after which he presses his hand in deeper and holds it for a moment, pressing him against him hard with his forearms.   
  
"Up we go-.." He says with a little bit of effort- lifting himself and Adam with him, to their feet.    
  
"Good... Good boy." He urges- keeping a grip on Adam in case he was unsteady from Sarif's ... ministrations. He ushers them both forward, to the desk, and his grip on Adam's front relaxes.   
  
"Hands on the desk, beautiful." He says, taking his place up against his back and he's. Bumping his forehead over Adam's ear and nudging him to lean forward.    
  
His natural hand rests softly over the man's throat, keeping him from laying on the desk yet. "God, Adam." He'd rumble into his ear. "You are something." Fond.

He would turn his head to bestow another kiss- this one to his neck. Another to his jaw. And his fingers turn up to collect him by the chin- and turn his face so he might look at him.   
  
Sarif grins.    
  
"My handsome kid." He splays his fingers one last time over his face, as if to feel it because looking just wasn't enough.   
  
He tugs Adam's trousers down then, fingers curling around the back of his neck to push him gently- but insistently- to the desk.    
  
And press against Adam after undoing himself at the waist too. He'd press a hand on Adam's spine, exploratory at first, before there was a little more pressure and he's- sliding into him with a breath.    
  
"There you go." He croons reassuringly. "Good boy..." He says quietly, hilting into him and pausing long enough to reach past Adam to one of the whiskey glasses- likely being Adam's.   
  
He looks for the spot his lips were and downs it before setting it carefully off to the side. He was in no hurry.

 

= * =

 

Oh, that touch.   
Adam surprises himself with a near whine - their heads bumping together at the praise. there’s fingers through his hair and he gives a shaky breath at that, leaning sweet into the touch. He feels like a pet - he’s kept his walls up for so long that he’s tormented himself into touch deprivation. He doesn’t know if he’s ever had something like this - Adam doesn’t know if he wants to ever give it up again.    
  
Doesn’t know when he fell so deep into this.   
Doesn’t know when he -   
  
He arches and the hand around his neck is fond, his eyes fixate feverishly on the black spheres above him. circles them with his gaze.    
  
“Y-Yeah?”    
  
He hates how his voice sounds like this - he almost fights giving in for a moment. He chokes with the third finger, cheeks flushing at the noise he never thought could clatter past his teeth. Oh. There’s hot lips against his cheekbone and his sentinel murmurs with the sudden stretch; tries to cool the slight burn and he’s attempting to quell it, reassure it. chase it away.   
  
I’m fine, this is fine.   
Don’t worry about me.   
  
The noise that David gives him - he near jerks at. Approval. He’s doing well. He’s sensitive and (almost) vulnerable and he hates this. he loves this. he hates the little whimper that leaves him as those fingers curl through his hair curl in him and part, part. he tightens around them in a pitiful fight and squirms down on them.

Hands at his throat. cheeks. jaw. throat. chest. rolling a nipple between his fingers as a fourth one is added. teeth on the black of his shoulder and he makes some sort of noise he’s never heard from himself before, overwhelmed. Mmn. “Ahh-h.” He tries to shut up. He doesn’t succeed.    
  
Though he - does startle in surprise as Sarif is suddenly lifting them up, to his feet - only to - ‘ _ Good boy _ ’ - Dammit, only to press him forward across the desk. Thankfully Sarif keeps hands on him, his legs tremble with the strain and he relaxes against the surface. “Mmm - nn.” Adam places his hands on the desk, obediently, and curls his fingers as Sarif’s head touches his own again, “Nnnokay.” muttered soft, eyes hazy against the paperwork under his cheek.    
  
His chest grows hotter at the continuing praise - he parts his legs further as Sarif turns his head for a kiss, another kiss, everything dizzying as he turns his jaw to look at him.   
  
Look at me.   
  
There’s the slide of fabric past his hips, a slide of a fingers up his spine, and he can - Sarif presses to him and there’s a bit of pressure, a bit of - he slips past and Adam makes the prettiest noise as David hilts immediately. Oh.     
  
“ _ Please _ ,” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, all he knows is that he’s parted open, hot, dick throbbing thick. nudged to the desk and he barely registers David thieving one of the glasses of whiskey - his glass to be specific. Adam just. stutters out a noise and relaxes against the desk, squeezing his eyes closed as he shivers, “ _ please _ .” small, submissive. just loud enough for Sarif to hear.

 

= * =

 

"Yeah." David returns quietly- brushing a hand along the side of Adam's head. Leaving a kiss in it's wake.    
  
He watches him through half-lidded eyes- though with full attention. His expression, his body. He's rewarded with more noise. The most noise he thinks Adam's ever made in the span of ten minutes.    
  
Once he's got him on the desk, that thought makes him smile and he's leaning against Adam's back to peer amorously at him. Praising him with every other breath.   
  
And then he's setting that whiskey aside, having pressed himself in until their hips met. Adam rewards him with a lovely noise; And an even lovelier 'Please,'    
  
Sarif was enchanted.   
  
Sarif slides his hand up his spine, settling neatly on the nape of his neck. His other slips between their hips- fingers curling around Adam's thigh as he urges it outward just a little more. He turns it around and hooks it around the front and gives Adam's hip another little jerk; after which he settles a moment.   
  
He finds himself glancing up to the hall for just a moment before there's another delightful little 'please' from Adam. That gets his attention back down immediately.   
  
Sarif feels even himself want to melt and leans forward, resting his chest on the man's back. His tie fell out of his jacket- He'd need to clip that later- before he brings himself close.   
  
"Oh-.. Adam... Now isn't that just beautiful." He breathes near his ear, fingers squeezing (not hard) at the back of the others neck before sliding up and into his hair.    
  
"God- what a good boy." He says, sliding himself out slow, matching the pace of his hand in Adam's hair. His augmented hand is still by their hips and he brings it between them to collect himself as he pulls out entirely.   
  
And then back in- entirely.

He buries his face into the side of the man's head, free hand brushing around- to his jaw. He loved holding that handsome jaw.   
  
Sarif can't even quite hold back a pleasured hum from his nose as he repeats the languid motion, fingers briefly tightening on Adam.    
  
"Ah.. Yeah.. Good. There you go. Feel good?" He pets his face with his thumb- other hand settled at Adam's thigh- fingers curled just enough- caught on a smooth slat of polycarbonate- to urge him to keep it parted as he picked up the pace slightly- though keeps his movements deep.   
  
He rolls his entire back- As Adam might feel behind him- in order to get the angle he wants.    
  
"Good boy. I knew you could do it." He rumbles- still petting Adam's cheek with his thumb.

 

= * =

 

Adam feels an overwhelming sense of security wash through him. It rolls through his belly and past his thighs; muzzy in his head and he’s - this office feels warm. thick. syrupy sweet and honey laced - whiskey washed and Adam’s HUD is fuzzy and shuddering.    
  
Nothing can get through that door, nothing can get out.    
  
It’s just them, them. No ghosts to haunt him and his spine burns with the repositioning of his hips, groaning low as he can feel Sarif’s weight shift inside of him. pressing in all the right places. all the right places. fire cracker clatter; lights up each section. each piece.    
  
‘ _ Now isn’t that just beautiful. _ ’   
  
He’s pinned down by his neck, near craving the fingers there. craving them to hold him still. he knows he’ll be kept safe under their purposeful touch. squeeze - he’s almost relieved when they slide up into his hair and he hums low. low.   
  
Sarif starts fucking him in time with the nails against his scalp. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t damn near purr - it comes out as more of a grumble against his paperwork, squeezing his eyes closed at the wet slide back into him. the heat parting. thick and heady. The sensation races up his spine in a busy hum and through his neck, sliding sweet along his collarbone and the skin is red, flush.    
  
He can’t keep the walls up any longer, not right now.    
  
Adam startles at the pleased hum in his ear and it pushes him to tighten against the heat, the weight. That Sarif is enjoying this too. He turns his head to bump it with his. tired. overwhelmed. There’s stars dotting his vision, heavy and demanding.

They bloom bright when Sarif pulls himself completely out.   
Empty. Empty.   
Before pushing back in, Adam actually  _ moans _ with the action. Sensitive, accepting him back in so easily. a trickle of lube runs down his thigh and he’s shivering at the feel of it. Oh. Mmn. Yeah, That’ll work.    
  
“Ahh-h..nn,” Adam shifts as Sarif keeps himself deep and works him over, works against that beautiful fucking sensitive spot. his legs tremble and he’s lucky he has the desk and Sarif to keep him steady.   
  
Steady Adam, you’re okay.    
  
“Oh - Ahh,  _ Yes _ ,” he manages to breathe out, unconsciously leaning into the touch. into him. Those fingers pet him, beckoning him to enjoy. He can’t help but give in, closing his eyes and leaning into the praise. the touch. “F-fuck,” He bites a little sharply as Sarif changes angles and he arches back against him, drawing in a short gasp and    
  
‘ _ Good boy _ ’   
  
Fuck.   
  
‘ _ I knew you could do it _ .’    
  
Oh.   
  
Adam is nodding into his touch, the praise. legs spread open and letting Sarif fuck him. Just as he was instructed, asked to. Just as Sarif wanted - “y-yeah,” he manages to agree, tone shaky with pleasure, but light hearted.

 

= * =

 

Sarif feels the rumble in Adam's throat whenever he likes something. He does it more. Hands in his hair, knuckles stroking his cheek or hooking delicately under his jaw.   
  
He breathes heavy into Adam's neck-- is delighted when the other bumps their heads affectionately together and he bares his teeth in a pearly smile; He chuckles exquisite.   
  
Adam speaks. He rewards him with a kiss to the side of his lips and another stroke over his head.    
  
"Good... Ahh, that's good."   
  
His hand on the other's thigh drags up, the tips of his fingers catching the dripping lube and he brings it back up between them.    
  
Adam arches with a swear and he lets him. Lets up the pressure on the back of his neck and instead pulls him up with an arm under his chest.    
  
"Oh...? Yeah?" He croons into his ear from behind a grin.   
  
"You like that, Adam? What a good boy."    
  
He brings both hands up now (after wiping his augmented one off) holding the man up against him. He's still holding Adam tight; Brings the other hand up to cradle his chin. His index brushes Adam's lips- presses testingly to the corner until he can feel his teeth- to see if maybe he'll take his finger into his mouth.   
  
"There you go..." Sarif hums. All too pleased to bestow approval.   
  
He drags in and out of him- pace steady for the most part, until he wanted to pull another noise out of his Adam and he'd speed up again.

God. Even David had to close his eyes and rumble appreciatively, hugging Adam tight and even-- biting back down on his shoulder.    
  
When he opens them- the office is bleary. He could almost lose himself and roll his eyes up and give in and--  No, he could manage a little more. A little more.   
  
Adam was enjoying himself.   
  
He presses his face into the back of adam's neck and hums; "Okay.." And leans forward again to push Adam into his desk, letting go of his head and chest. He'd slide his hands down to collect Adam's wrists.   
  
He would bring them in, gently press them together at his back under his own mechanical hand. "You're ok..." He reassures.    
  
"Good boy," He'd croon, returning his natural hand to Adam's hair as he'd lean in again himself- picking up his pace inside him- a little more shallow- while keeping a grip on his arms.   
  
"There we go.." He breathes. "Good? There's my handsome kid..."

 

= * =

 

There’s something about Sarif touching his face.   
Oh, there’s something about it.    
  
Adam gives something akin to a whimper as the back of David’s knuckles stroke across his cheek. In the sea of everything overwhelming, that sensation keeps him grounded. those fingers move to his jaw and he almost wants to sob. There’s so many things going on at once - well, no, that’s a lie. There’s so many  _ new _ feelings creeping in with the new things that he doesn’t quite know how to process it all.    
  
The wet, heated slide of Sarif in and out of him is - fuck. He strokes deep, causing hips to twitch. “Nnnm,” he pulls one leg to stretch it a bit, to ease the tension.    
  
Sarif kisses the side of his lips as Adam turns his head to catch him in a chaste, full kiss. sweet. sweet. quiet and soft. Fingers through his hair again - he smiles genuine, a little blissed out.    
  
He shivers, goosebumps racketing up the skin of his spine as Sarif catches the stray slide of slide down hit thigh, gathering it and bringing it back home. fingers playing at where they’re joined momentarily before    
  
Sarif has arms around him and pulling him up - more so to stand than anything. He chokes back something and sinks further back onto him, sentinel bubbling soft at the gentle burn.    
  
“ _ Yeah _ ,” he remembers Sarif’s earlier statement, “I a-aahh-h like...it.” What a good boy. He finds himself nodding, despite how embarrassed he was at liking that so much. Sarif made him believe he was. He was good. This body wasn’t bad, he wasn’t bad. That he could learn to love himself, again

He was  _ good _ .   
  
The fingers creep to his lips and he takes advantage of it with no hesitation; he curls his tongue around one and pulls it in. tracing it. tracing. running the tip of it against all the seams and testing the material with his teeth. He drags the flat of his tongue up from knuckle to fingertip. Hm. Mmng.    
  
David knows how to play him.    
Discovering the angles that draw noise from him, that hit just sharp enough that he near sobs. “Please,” He says at the same time that David Sarif hugs him. There’s teeth in his shoulder. It stutters his hips.    
  
Adam almost says thank you when he’s pressed into the desk again but Sarif pulls his wrists behind his back and he panics in the disorient for the second - fires and bodies and blood and Sarif bullied back against a banister and   
  
‘ _ You’re ok… _ ’   
  
Oh. His chest clutters and flutters warm and he gives the faintest noise of appreciation, feeling the heat building behind his eyes. his stomach. shoulders. Adam remembers their last time - David hadn’t even finished. Had denied him of this but    
  
He flexes his legs and parts them more, “Close.” He starts with, and then hooks an ankle around one of Sarif’s legs, hoping he gets the hint. “Please,” he tries again, rolling his hips back and tightening himself around Sarif. He turns his head to give him a pitiful, over the shoulder look. almost begging.    
  
God, Adam.   
What has he done to you?

 

= * =

 

Sarif sighs- rather fondly- when Adam obediently takes his fingers into his mouth. He hums into his neck- living in the noises he makes under him.   
  
There's another little 'please' and David pulls his teeth back in favour of putting his lips on Adam's ear-- he closes his eyes.   
  
He feels the slightest whirring from Adam's wrists but it passes quickly. He felt a little guilty for it- but that also passed quickly.   
  
He presses his cheek into Adam's head and rubs- holding the man's head with his hand when he finally pulls it away from his lips. Not that he wanted to pull it away, he was quite enjoying that.   
  
David hears another vibration from Adam- a pleasant one this time. And then a 'close' followed by his quickly-becoming-a new favourite 'please.'    
  
Sarif hums curiously, shifting over Adam a fraction to meet his look. Coupled with the ankle hooking behind his leg, he was quick to relate what he wanted.   
  
Yeah. He could do that. This time he could do that...   
  
Sarif makes a noise at the back of his throat as Adam rolled his hips- fuck- His eyelashes flutter slightly.    
  
"Yeah.." He agrees. With whatever. This. Adam. All of this.   
  
He keeps a grip on Adam's wrists and leans back a few inches. He drags his other fingers back over the man's face, through his hair and- gingerly- takes a hold of it as he picked up the pace.   
  
He takes a sharp breath and seems to hold it, his body tense over Adam's back and- as he drags in and out of him- his grip falters- hand hitting the desk and curling into it (creasing some paperwork by accident) as he finally gasps-    
  
"Fuck-" He presses his forehead hard into Adam's shoulder, his strokes slowing as he makes the last few as deep as he can- a shaky hand leaving Adam's wrists in favour of hooking over his hips and pulling back with his forearm- fingers wrapping around Adam's cock and stroking that too.   
  
"That's it..." He breathes. "There you go, Adam- come for me- good boy."

He swallows hard, panting into his back for a few long moments until they're both finished. But he doesn't pull away immediately; Instead settles a little more weight on him and lifts his head to kiss his jaw. The corner. He can't help but leave a gentle bite as he comes down from earlier.   
  
He hums approvingly, bumping his head into Adam's one more time before he begins to pull away.    
  
"Good boy." He whispers; repeats.    
  
He takes a moment to steady himself- a hand flat on Adam's lower back as he cleans himself off and- with a sigh- is sitting back on his desk chair and putting himself away in his trousers.   
  
"God- now aren't you a fucking angel." He mutters, reaching up to wipe his forehead.

 

= * =

 

There’s fingers in his mouth still and a humming against his neck and Adam is tired. he’s tired. He’s not that type of tired where he can’t function no - he’s tired in the way that he’s held back enough noises that his resolve is weakening.    
  
He gives a small whimper as Sarif pulls his exploring fingers away and he frowns for a moment for the distraction gone. It served well to keep him balanced, to keep him from teetering too far and finish too early. The heat in his stomach is wild now, something molten. Mmn. It shifts as Sarif presses his lips sweetly to his ear and Adam can feel his cheeks flush at something so small and intimate.    
  
He’s flustered and embarrassed, fuck. He  _ likes _ this though trust. trust. momentary question of trust comes into play but he flexes his wrists, feeling enough lax that he knows he could pull them away if he wanted. knows he could take back control.  _ knows _ . he has to trust him. He’s trusted him this far, with this much.    
  
When David hovers over him to return the look, Adam gives the smallest gasp at the stab of heat and he thinks that makes him look even more pitiful. What a sight he must be: cock hard and drooling a line of fluid to the floor, cheeks flushed and lips parted. Eyes glazed and pretty with pleasure - all from Sarif. only for Sarif.    
  
A soft whine rumbles in his throat as Sarif’s hand slides through his hair and comes to hold him; Adam closes his eyes and a shudder dances across him - Ah. Yeah. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . He can feel Sarif throb and twitch in him as he strokes forward again and he knows he’s close. He furrows and presses his brows tight together and concentrates on that feeling. on  _ that feeling _ . biting his lip when David finally stutters into an orgasm. He slows, and Adam tightens against the sensation that - ah, fuck. He’s wanted since their last encounter.

He absolutely does jerk with a startle at the hand on his own dick and the noise that does come from him is vaguely a choked sob; fingers curl over his head and slip down to stroke him - it doesn’t take long. He shoves  _ back _ against David and not forward into the table upon first instinct. He wants this.  _ He wants this _ . What a weird thing to admit to himself. Unexpected.    
  
“Oh fuck,” he manages to breathe out, “Mmnnfuck.” Letting him hear, knows he wants to hear him. He can oblige, giving a throaty chuffle at the praise and then, settling. The heat riddled through him and he closes his eyes in exhaustion. More emotionally taxed than physically.    
  
...Adam smiles at the small kiss to his jaw.    
some clarity in the fuzzy aftermath.    
  
“Yeah?” He asks, dazed, shivering as Sarif pulls back - away. and leaves him poise over the desk. legs trembling - his augs aren’t quite responding the way he’d want them too. They’re whirring soft, louder with the strain as he tries to put more weight on them. He gives up for the moment, laying flat over the desk.    
  
He closes his eyes again and his cheeks bite hot as he feels the slide of heat down his thigh - so different from the earlier lube. Right in view of Sarif. Mmn. Fuck. “Angel.” He murmurs in muzzy disbelief, “Sure.”    
  
a pause, and a quiet, “May have to...lay down for a few.”    
his quietly clattering augs agree.

 

= * =

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos <333 always appreciated


End file.
